


Good Morning Mr. Lester

by PhandomDweller



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Music Teacher Dan Howell, Piano, Singing, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 22:34:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18040361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhandomDweller/pseuds/PhandomDweller





	1. Chapter 1

“Is there any way at all I can get this changed?”

The counselor looked at Phil, shaking his head ever so slightly. “If you don’t want to take a Physical Education class, Philip, you have to take a musical class instead. I’m sorry.”

Phil scowled a little bit, pretending to fix his tie, when he knew it was already perfectly centered on his neck. He scanned the list of available music classes. No instruments. That’s probably a bad idea to hand me something expensive and tell me not to drop it. That left one last option. “Fine. Chorus is better than P.E. I suppose.”

The counselor, glad to have Phil leave, hastily entered the information in his computer and promptly sat back in his chair rubbing his temples. 

Phil spun on his heel and began the long walk back to his classroom. Phil had just started his final year of Public education and he was already severely disappointed. He had somehow managed to not be roped into a P.E. class his whole life, but this year seemed to be the year that policy just had to change. But, after the first day in his P.E. class he had already been shoved into some lockers, tripped whilst putting on his sock, ran until he threw up into the grass, and gotten 5, no, 6 blisters on his feet. So he jumped at his coach’s suggestion to go change his schedule. But, Phil was not a fan of the idea of being in a choir. He knew he was an okay singer, but he couldn’t read music very well, and he was not very confident.

Nonetheless, he showed up in the Chorus room the next day, glad to be able to sit still for an hour instead of playing dodgeball.  
He shuffled nervously into the throng of the chorus kids, laughter and exaggerated singing filling the air. He found a seat and sat there, observing the décor on the walls.  
He was surprised to see band posters and prints of famous artwork. The classic “The ‘I’ in Achieve stands for you!” in annoyingly colorful text was nowhere to be seen. There was a piano in the middle of the room, and one table completely covered in papers, but other than that there was only risers and chairs. 

As it got closer and closer to the bell ringing people began to settle down. The talking was still echoing, but everyone was sitting at least. 

Suddenly, a door to the left that Phil had not previously notice opened and out stepped a young man. What is that student doing sneaking around in the teacher’s office? Phil wondered, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bell chiming. The same student that came from the office took a stand right behind the piano, as if to address the class. Phil rolled his eyes, annoyed at this student’s idea of trying to be funny by impersonating a teacher.

But then, the young man in the front took control of the room. He raised his arms, and called for attention. “Hello, everyone! Welcome back! How was your first day?” talking erupted and he merely lifted his hand again, and everyone fell silent. “One at a time, starting with…” he surveyed the class and his eyes landed on Phil’s. “The new kid! He got transferred into this class yesterday! So, how was your first day?”

Phil swallowed, still wary of the young man and he replied, “Well, I ran into the lockers in P.E., ran on the track until I threw up everywhere, and begged my counselor to put me in here, so pretty bad, I suppose. But they changed my schedule so I’m in here, instead.” 

Snickers started in the room, and the teacher smiled. “Anything is better than P.E. for sure. Let’s hope today goes better, right?”

Phil nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth. Maybe choir wouldn’t be as bad as he made himself believe. The teacher seemed alright, and he liked the décor.  
The rest of the class discussed their days, some with a monotone “fine” whilst some were excitedly spurting off anecdotes and using sing-songy voices. But the whole time Phil watched the teacher at work. He must not be much older than Phil, but he had the feeling of confidence surrounding him. He was leaning over the piano as everyone spoke, genuinely excited for what they had to say. It was like at any moment he was going to bunny hop over it. He had a loud laugh, and he tilted his head way back to let it out. And his hair was always a nanometer from being in his eyes, but somehow the curls always bounced away at the last second. 

The most striking part about him was when he would flash his gaze across the room and his eyes would latch onto Phil’s. And they would stare, and it was like the room was on fire. But as soon as he looked away the feeling left.

As soon as everyone got to say what they had to say, the teacher clapped his hands together. “Alright! Pull out the song I gave you yesterday!” shuffling and the sound of bags opening and papers crinkling filled the room. Phil merely looked around awkwardly. The teacher gasped a little and whipped his head to stare right into Phil’s eyes. “Oh! You need one, huh?” Phil shrugged and the teacher, just as excited, whipped his head back again. “Do you know your voice part?” Phil merely blinked. 

Dan turned back to the class and said, “Start looking at the music while I help out the new kid, class. And absolutely NO banging on the piano, or you’re tuning it yourself!” He gestured to Phil to follow him. It took him a second, but he finally rose to his feet to follow him. The teacher strolled over to another un-noticed door, and held it open for Phil to walk in to. Phil wasn’t sure what to expect, but his racing heart slowed immediately after he saw where he was. A tiny, cramped room with stained carpet and one singular, obviously ancient piano. He looked over to the teacher confusedly, only then to fully realize he was an inch or so taller than the teacher, but that quickly changed as the teacher took a seat. 

He turned to look at Phil and their eyes were glued together the same as before. But the teacher looked away, lifting his hand to ruffle his hair. After he cleared his throat he said, “So, I’m Da-,“ His eyes went wide, “Mr. Howell. Mr. Howell.” He said again, as if hoping to make himself believe it too. His eyes drifted to the floor, red dusting his cheeks. I’m new to this whole teacher thing.” He looked up again, meeting Phil’s gaze and said, “I graduated early. And I knew I wanted to do music, but then I realized that I didn’t want to perform, I wanted to spread the music. So I switched majors in the middle of the year, and here I am. I was a substitute for a year, but then they wanted to keep me around after the old teacher retired. And…” he chuckled, “now I’m here telling you my life story instead of finding your voice part.”

Phil smiled at him. He quite liked listening to “Da-Mr. Howell” speak. But, nonetheless, he was ready. But as he was preparing to sing he looked down to see the teacher patting the bench next to him. He slowly sat next to the teacher on the very small, worryingly creaky stool. Dan began to plunk out notes on the piano and Phil tried to sing them. But he was a little worried. He wasn’t a singer, and he was very, very close to this almost stranger. In the middle of a scale Phil stopped singing so he could blurt out, “My name is Phil!” Silence. “Just an fyi, in case you were wondering.” 

Mr. Howell shifted on the bench to look at Phil, head tilted slightly. ”Well, Phil. I’m thinking you’re a tenor.”


	2. Chapter 2

Phil was surprised by how much he was enjoying his choir class. Weeks flew by, and he found himself looking forward to the time of day when he walked across campus to enter the familiar room. Its comforting aura was like a soft hug. The students were funny, and the songs weren’t too hard. He just sang softly and acted like he knew what he was doing. Singing no longer perplexed him, and neither did the other students. But he was in constant confusion regarding the teacher. From the hints that were dropped he realized they were very similar. The main difference was Phil was still only 17 whilst Mr. Howell was 20. But the age gap seemed to disappear as time went on. 

He learned the solfege, and he could recite Do Re Mi forwards and backwards. He learned about the lines in the music, and how to read music in general. They discussed classic musicians. Mr. Howell would jump up and down in excitement whilst Mozart would come blaring out of the speakers. “Feel what he is trying to say to you! Open your heart and feel it!” He would shout, using his hand to conduct wildly. 

But, beyond a doubt, the best day was when (only purely for example or course) they compared “Welcome to the Black Parade,” and “Fur Elise.” 

“The introductions,” he kept saying as he paced across the room, “Absolutely iconic! And potentially overplayed!” A broad smile had crossed his face. “Music is constant. The world never stops making music, and music is never ending. Isn’t that just amazing?” 

Phil remembered that class period with a smile, remembering the clamor from the students. Some felt like their whole world had turned upside down, whilst others muttered something along the lines of, “Ew.” 

Phil had never thought of music to have a deeper meaning. He knew he liked it, and that the lyrics could be pretty cool, but Mr. Howell showed him a whole new side of it. He took as song and made it into an enigma. And Phil absolutely loved it. He couldn’t get enough of Mr. Howell’s amazing brain.

So it was no surprise when Phil found himself absentmindedly walking the campus during lunch only to arrive right outside the choir room door. Phil knew that there wasn’t a class scheduled at that time, but he was unsure where Mr. Howell would be. Once he rationalized that Mr. Howell would be somewhere in the teacher’s lounge he pushed the door open.

It was dark in there, no light besides the safety light and some of the fairy lights that were strung around the room. Phil took this moment alone to let out a contented sigh, as he began doing a complete walk-around of the room. He looked at each poster, closer than he ever had before. He was impressed with Mr. Howell’s taste once again. Once he had done that he turned back to the piano. He sat on the bench, and imagined taking charge of a whole class of students. His already clammy palms testified that he would never be able to do that. How amazing that there is someone willing to teach something that they believe in. 

He lifted his hand and set his fingers on the keys. He had no knowledge of the piano at all, but still, he spaced his fingers out and attempted a couple chords. He racked his brain for any recollection of the ledger lines and how they correspond to the keys of the piano. Once he admitted defeat he just plunked out the Welcome to the Black Parade opening. He was about to get up and leave the room when suddenly there was a voice behind him. “Not even attempting Fur Elise, Phil? I thought my lesson would have made those two inseparable in your mind.”

Phil’s ears were heating up, and his heart was racing. “I- I thought,” he stammered. “I was sure you would be in the teacher’s lounge or something!” He ripped his hands away from the piano, and stood up quickly. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears, and he hardly heard the sound of the piano bench tumbling behind him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”  
Mr. Howell placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s no problem. Once I was sure it wasn’t a serial killer I listened to the playing. It was refreshing. Do you play?”  
Phil, still surprised there was no yelling, shook his head. “Obviously not. But I enjoy just playing chords and seeing what happens.”  
Mr. Howell nodded slowly, and shuffled his feet. “Do you want to know how to play it?”

Phil cocked an eyebrow and his head tilted slightly in his confusion. “I mean, yeah?”

Mr. Howell straightened up to his full height, smiling widely. “Well, how about you come in during your lunches and I’ll teach you!” Phil’s bewilderment manifested itself in the form of silence. Mr. Howell, smile slowly fading, said, “I mean, if you really don’t want to you don’t have to. And if you wanted to eat lunch with your friends I understand, I mean, you can-“  
Phil’s throat finally decided to function and he quickly said, “No, no! I would love to! I don’t even sit by anyone at lunch anyways. But what about you? I thought you would eat lunch in the teacher’s lounge!”

Mr. Howell shuddered a little. “Have you met the other teachers here? They’re, like, old.”

Phil laughed, and nodded along with Mr. Howell, eyes glancing to the clock on the wall. “Lunch is almost over, though.”

Mr. Howell’s smile faded slowly, and his response was, “Oh, yeah. It is. Well, tomorrow, then?”

Phil’s chest swelled with happiness, “Tomorrow it is.”


End file.
